I know what the police say about me. I’ve always known, because it was always by design. I’m so much smarter than any of those obedient little cattle give me credit for.
They wanted a monster, so I crafted them one, and tore the world apart. They wanted a sickness, so I opened my mouth wide and coughed the darkness that had dripped down my throat since the day I was born all over them.
Soon, everyone else will see it too. It’s time for the truth to come out, and their silly little stories of me to be ripped to shreds.
I can be anybody that they want me to be. I don’t mind at all, just as long as they play by the rules.
That’s the problem though.
Everyone in this world is so selfish.
They take and they take and they take and they take, but God forbid, you ask them to give! Just once. Just once, I wanted someone to give, for once.
Was it too much to ask? Was I too much for asking? Who can really say. As soon as I’d even had the thought, it was over anyway.
They wanted to be entertained, so I put on a show.
It was like nothing they’d ever seen. It really was some of my best work, and I delivered the same high standard, night after night for years. I’ve performed in places they don’t even know about. I worked like a dog, just trying to give the people what they wanted, but you know how they are, don’t you dearest? Minds change in an instant, and suddenly, you go from the people’s princess to a wanted criminal.
I was his little Princess, until I wasn’t. I think that’s how it all began.
Not to be a cliche, darling, but I think that if he had just loved me, the way he was supposed to, for as long as possible, a lot of lives could have been spared.
It will sound like an excuse, but honestly, I’ve done all that.
I’ve bargained, begged and talked bad about myself, baring my soul as my blood pooled beside me and ‘reality’ sank in. I was a bad, bad little girl, and so a deathbed confession seemed fitting, but I take it all back sweet darling. I’ve seen the light, and I was wrong, in that one little moment.
Everything before? That was me building a legacy, leaving my calling card and screams of horror in every corner of London, and giving a lovely little thrill to the bored, bereft and bowed down.
It was in fact the blood loss. In those final moments, I was losing my mind, and so I was seduced by weakness, desperate to try another way of getting the love I deserved. I was repentant, repulsively so, but I take it all back.
I did nothing wrong.
I used to be like the rest, once upon a time. I wanted to please, and I wanted to be ‘good’, but darling, I’m coming to understand that there really is no such thing.
There are cowards, those who are not brave enough to live the kind of life they need, and those who are warriors, who will fight for it with everything that they have.
I have decided to be reborn as a warrior. It really is the perfect time, after all, but first, I must confess to one last thing, before I ascend and exist unapologetically.
I was his little Princess, until I wasn’t.
My Mother died at some point. I’m not sure when, really, or how. I suppose that it doesn’t matter. She just gave up one day, and there we were, in a dominion of despair, a little girl, and her father.
It was as if he mended his heart by falling in love with me instead. He had never been the most involved father before, because he had a wife, so no need to be, but with her gone, he threw himself into the role. He would buy me the most beautiful toys, and we’d play together, as if the world outside was just a fairy story. He’d read to me every night, creating beautiful scenes with my dolls and puppets, deploying hundreds of voices and hundreds of smiles as he sent me to sleep.
Some would say I was spoiled, but I was his cure. He needed someone to adore, and to dote on. All people do, and I was the natural choice. I was healing him. Every extravagant gift, weekend of laughter and Daddy-Daughter date soothed his aching heart, and kept him alive.
I was healing too. I was so small, and life so dismal, so I needed to be loved. Children, like flowers and grudges, need a little something to help them grow. Water, adoration, grievances. It all makes a difference. That’s why it hurt so bad when it stopped.
I was his little Princess, until I wasn’t.
The rain began to fall, but there was too much. The garden was drowned. The earth became thick mud, and nothing would flower.
Where was the sun? Well, apparently, it existed only in the eyes of Briana. I was his little Princess until he decided that he needed another Queen.
It was a settled matter. It didn’t need to be trodden again. We had gone over it. I had decided that it was better when it was just the two of us, and with time, he understood that I was right, but like almost everyone that walks the Earth, my Daddy was a weak, woeful little man.
I had allowed him to heal at my expense. I had loved him. I had put in the work as he wept. It might have seemed balanced, because of the money spent, or the time he had put in, but I had done the lion’s share, just as I have always had to do.
Mother had to go, and little Poppy took care of it. Daddy had to learn how to love again, and little Poppy took care of it. Daddy had to learn how to be a good Daddy, and little Poppy took care of it, but in all this, who was taking care of little Poppy?
I was only fourteen. He stopped loving me, and I was only fourteen. He had some new whore, and so I was cast aside. Have you ever heard of such a thing? Have you ever witnessed such cruelty?
It just wouldn’t do, and so, of course, little Poppy had to take care of it.
He was mine, you see. I had put the work in. I had invested. I had set everything in motion, and then some doe eyed dumb bitch came along and he was ‘happy’.
Had I not made him happy? Was I not the light of his life? It was horrific, to be truthful with you. I cried for days, but neither of them could understand.
He presented her to me over dinner one day, and said she was moving in. She clutched my hand and told me she wanted us to be friends. It was hard not to throw up what I’d just eaten. The betrayal beat against my insides, and the rain continued to rattle against the sobbing soil all around me.
I was drowning, and he didn’t care.
He didn’t have time for stories anymore, and he had to save all of his pennies for their wedding, so as she always has to do, little Poppy took care of it.
Such a big man, but still, like everyone does, when I decide that they will, he fell, collapsing to the floor under the knife, cradling himself and crying out as his body painted the carpet a ravishing shade of red.
The blood soaked into the fibres, ravenous and desperate to be seen, and I understood it so well. I couldn’t bare to clean it, so I gave the pooling, pretty blood a friend to play with.
Briana bled beautifully, and soon, the whole living room was a vision.
I watched it all night and then slipped out the next morning after a shower, with all the cash I could carry.
There was nobody left to take care of little Poppy, and so, she had to take care of herself. Bit by bit, day by day, I survived, on the kindness of strangers, and sometimes, their stupidity.
I had to do things that would horrify people, but they don’t understand you see. I was becoming something more. I couldn’t understand it myself, at the time, but now, it all makes sense.
Every step, and every stumble was leading me here.
This is it.
Do you know how I can be so sure of myself now?
Oh, my sweet darling, I am swelling with strength. It’s like my body is burning, alive again, dancing through the darkened streets as the moon whispers my name.
There are rumblings of what I did, hidden away on conspiracy forums and the shadowed corners of social media, because the government tried to dull my shine and cover it up. Their efforts were all in vain though, because I am the kind of girl that just can’t be forgotten.
I can already see it. My name in lights. My beauty, immortalised in documentaries and movies. The thought of me keeping wired, tired thrill seekers awake all night.
I’m back, my darling. Back, and better than ever before.
The world is calling me again, because she didn’t forget about me. Not my silly Marilyn. That’s old hat. Old news. No. No. My precious little Princess. My Violet kept me close to her heart, and never let me go.
Little girls have such interesting interests these days. Skin care, squishmallows, sorcery.
The wonderful thing about having a daughter that isn’t quite like most is that she knows how to do the most wonderful things. While she may not have had a soul for Pumpkins to take all those years ago, she had a darkness that the night liked to listen to, and as the night fell in love with her, it decided to grant her a wish.
You see, this is the lesson my dear Daddy could never learn, and so many that came after him. If you live with an open heart, and you allow yourself to really, truly love someone, then you can always depend on them. They are also unlikely to murder you, but as I’ve been dead for several years, that wasn’t really a concern.
All of this is to say that while things weren’t perfect, my precious little Princess knew that I tried my best to be a good mother to her. She was not of this Earth, but that only made me love her more, and THAT is the key. That is what he missed.
God, it’s all so simple, really, when you think about it. He’s in the ground, gazing up at the same pine for eternity, but I’m free, risen from my dusty, dismal prison, and ready to perform for my public once again. All I had to do was love her, and in return, she has loved me, so much that she moved Heaven and Earth to have me back.
I would have done the same for him, if he had let me stay his little Princess, but as you know, dearest, darling diary, that was the beginning of the end for him, and the beginning of everything, for me.
I’m free now, and I intend to give the people exactly what they want, even if they don’t realise that they want it.
I love them, even though they resist me, and I’ll keep fighting, like the warrior I was born to be.
Little Poppy is all grown up, and she’s got a little something special for every man, woman and child. Everyone will see, and there will be no hiding my gifts, and no hiding from me.
They’ve got strings, but you can see, there are no strings on me.
Love forever,
The Puppet Mistress
-x-
Sincerely, Jennifer x 
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